


Too Much Information

by Shubatra



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But She Hears Anyway, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, I hope you like words, Laura is A Little Too, Natasha Doesn't Want to Know, Not All of This is Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, There is Impact on Canon, clint is a troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shubatra/pseuds/Shubatra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long morning of errands, an unseasonably warm day, and a husband who is far too attractive for his own good (or hers, for that matter) lead Laura Barton to actions she would normally save for home, but she just can't seem to help herself when her husband keeps unintentionally showing off his physique.</p>
<p>Natasha doesn't want to know. She really, really, REALLY doesn't want to know.</p>
<p>Clint, however, seems determined to tell her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Information

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo somehow I remembered I was going out of town for a few days, but forgot that said going-out-of-town would mean I wouldn't be able to write anything or _upload_ anything because I don't have a travel computer and wouldn't have any time to work on stuff... Good thing I had this pretty much done! Anyway.
> 
> I have no idea where this came from, but come it did (pun totally intended). I'll read smut if I'm interested in the pairing but write it? Nope! So why did _this_ happen? I really don't know all of it, but at least part of it is that I just find these two so freaking adorable together and they never seem to get enough love, so why not let them give some to each other. Another part of it was definitely the mental image of Nat _not wanting to hear about it why do you keep talking Hawkeye_. Porn is great. Porn with other stuff mixed in is best. And porn is less than half this ridiculous number of words.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and as always, please let me know if there's anything I need to edit - typos, missing punctuation, repetitive word choices, you all know the basics. Also thank you everyone who left kudos/bookmarks/comments on "The Other Name for Home" and "Hawkeye's War." Part four of HW is still being difficult (not helped by the trip, admittedly) but I'll have _something_ to upload next week, even if it's not that. Until then... behave yourselves, kids ;)

“Well _that_ sure took awhile. What'd you do, drive to Kansas for that new dresser?” Natasha asked when Clint stepped into the kitchen, not looking up from the sandwich she was making at the counter.

“Uhh... not really, we made a stop on the way back,” Clint said, dropping his jacket off his arm and going to hang it on the hook.

“Please tell me it was at the grocery store, we're out of mustard and I think your cold cuts have fur growing on- Clint.”

“What?”

“You _didn't_.”

“What?”

“Oh god.” Nat dropped the knife she was using to spread mayo on her bread with a clatter, rubbing her eyes as if to try and drive away the vision of the darkening bruises on Clint's neck and the slightly dopey grin he had on his face. “You did. You _did_.”

“Well...”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Laura Barton very rarely _demanded_ to do anything, but when she did, everyone was wise enough to listen. The sweetest, most wonderful woman that Clint (or Nat) had ever known didn't get worked up all that much, but she was enough like her husband that when she got the idea in her head about a project, she sometimes wouldn't rest until it was done.

In this case, it was the dresser in Lila's room. They'd been meaning to replace it for awhile, it having been a cast-off from when Cooper was a toddler in the first place, but when it had both proved too small to hold Lila's ever-expanding collection of clothes _and_ had given the girl splinters into the bargain when she tried to open the drawers one day, Laura had had enough. One of her passions was rummaging through second-hand stores looking for any hidden treasures, and there were tons of old shops and antiquing barns spread around the area they lived in. The offending dresser had been quickly evicted from Lila's room to the barn to be reduced to scrap wood for the winter fire and a shelving unit introduced until a new dresser could be procured, and when Natasha swung out to Iowa to help them celebrate Cooper's ninth birthday it was the perfect opportunity. Laura was the _only_ one in love with antiquing: Clint would tolerate it for her sake, both the kids would be kind of interested for about ten minutes and then get _fantastically_ bored, and Nat would only go if she was tricked into it. With Nat willing to watch the kids at home, Laura had grabbed her husband and loaded them both into his truck, a list in her hand of five different stores she'd seen good dressers at before, and directed him to the first stop.

Stores one and two had been strikeouts, the first one having sold the dressers she remembered seeing and the second still having two but not of the kind or quality she was looking for, but they struck pay dirt at the third one. There was one there that was everything she wanted, sturdy, well-constructed, roomy, and without extraneous detailing that could break off easily in the future - but it was a sickly sea-foam green that reminded her more of someone about to throw up than anything, which was a major mark against it. Fortunately, it was poplar, and after a close inspection, Clint determined that he could refinish it into something less vomit-inducing.

"Shouldn't be too hard," he said, laying almost flat on the ground as he tilted it back on two legs, looking at the underside to make sure it hadn't rotted anywhere. "The paint should strip right off, then we can lacquer it or stain it or paint and seal it, whatever you want to do."

"Mmm," she replied, momentarily distracted by the sight of her husband bent over with his well-shaped butt a little in the air as he looked over the dresser, biceps and back muscles straining under his t-shirt as tilted it back with his right arm. Clint had passed forty a few years ago, but it hadn't slowed down his work ethic - or his training regimen - at all. Her husband wore his years well on his face and not at all on his body, still all hard muscles, nimble limbs, and overly perceptive senses. She _knew_ that some of her friends were jealous of her because, no matter how often Clint was gone, he was very obviously just as in love with her as the day they'd married and hadn't let himself go soft like so many other men around. Well, they could be jealous as much as they liked - she _had_ him, after all. She quickly pulled her brain back to the present as he looked up at her, probably for some sort of direction. "We can ask Lila when we get home, but staining it or maybe a pastel paint would be best. She's less likely to regret it later than it we let her choose hot pink."

"If she does, I can just not seal it so we have the excuse to refinish it again in a couple years. She's gonna damage the paint if we don't do it." Clint let the dresser drop and pushed himself to his feet, pulling out the drawers one by one and stacking them on top of the piece to look for any problematic areas. There was no way she could help catching a glimpse - multiple glimpses - of his admittedly very, very nice, tight butt as he bent, and squatted, and peered some more into the nooks. The slightly-too-tight jeans he'd managed to grab before she dragged him out of the house didn't help matters any. "Or color all over it, or try and paint it herself. We can make it a project for me and her in a few years."

Shaking her head a little - this was _not_ the place to start fantasizing about her husband - Laura nodded and removed the dangling price tag from the dresser, heading to the front of the barn. "I'll get this paid for if you'll pull the truck up to the door so we can load it."

"Yes, ma'am." Clint took a moment to put all the drawers back in properly, picked up the jacket he'd removed in the hot barn, and headed for the dirt field outside that doubled as a parking lot. Laura, meanwhile, took a moment to get her head out of the gutter before she paid the lady at the cash register. The woman had to be at least twenty years older than her, if not more, but she watched Clint go outside with as much interest as any of Laura's more obvious friends. 

"You're a lucky girl," she said with a smile and a wink, and Laura felt her cheeks burn.

"Yes, I am," she agreed, quickly changing the topic to the actual purchase. 

Getting it loaded into the back of the truck wasn't that hard with a couple of the guys who worked there acting as manual labor to lift it into the bed, and Clint strapped it down for transport with the ropes and bungee cord he kept in the truck for situations just like these. It wasn't really a surprise to Laura that her mind couldn't entirely be rid of those... _observations_... of her husband's physique, what with all the bending and moving and reaching he had to do to secure it, and she felt her heart speeding up and her breathing deepening a little. Maybe Nat would be willing to take the kids outside to play for awhile when they got home...

"Laura? You ready?"

"Yes! Sorry, just thinking," she answered, getting into the truck on the passenger side and hoping her blush at being caught having certain _thoughts_ wasn't obvious. Clint didn't seem to notice, but then her husband had always been kind of adorably obtuse about romantic matters. It was a running joke with them that he hadn't noticed they were dating for the first three months, though that was an exaggeration.

"What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing, just stupid stuff." Laura concentrated on beating her redness down by turning away to fasten her seat belt, because romantic dunce he could be but Clint would undoubtedly notice any overt changes in her complexion. 

Apparently it worked enough that he didn't suspect anything, and he gave her a smile that made her very glad she wasn't standing as her knees turned to jelly. "Whatever it is, if you're thinking it, it can't be stupid."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," she muttered.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I don't really know how it happened, she was acting kind of embarrassed and then we were on our way back here and-"

"I don't want to know."

"But she told me to pull over and she was jumping on me like I was-"

" _I don't want to know, Clint._ "

"-and then she had her lips on my neck, and-"

" _CLINT!_ "

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

If Laura had thought the drive back to the farm would be a good time to drop some of the heat that her husband had unknowingly invoked in her, she was completely wrong. It was unusually warm for late September and so Clint had left his jacket off as he drove, which meant his arms - those amazing, contoured, _strong_ arms - were on full display to her. And as if that wasn't enough, the AC in his truck had broken down a couple of weeks before, but he hadn't taken it in to be repaired yet because the weather had started to cool and Captain Rogers had needed him back in New York for the last week. Even with the windows down it was hot enough to make both of them sweat a little, and she could see the clear drops slide down his skin, tracing over the places where she suddenly imagined her tongue would be, falling into and slowly starting to soak his t-shirt. Clint didn't seem to notice, but he had a much better tolerance for temperature fluctuations than she did, and given his job was used to being in much more uncomfortable situations than a slightly-overcooked truck cab. And then it got worse.

He started _singing_.

Clint wasn't a professional by any means, but he was surprisingly musical. He knew drums and some guitar, and had a voice that was actually _good_ , unlike a lot of the people that turned up at karaoke bars. It wasn't a talent that he displayed very often, but it came out a lot around his family, from the times he'd serenaded her before they were married - halfway joking, but entirely sincere - to singing their children to sleep even now. He was convinced he was nothing special but Laura begged to differ; maybe it was only because she had fond memories of his singing, but it was as much a loving turn-on for her as when he gave her a back rub. And when he put on the oldies station and sang along to all the cheesy do-wop love songs from before they were even born... 

Well. Whatever control she'd been holding on to, it pretty much snapped the moment he started on "My Girl."

" _I've got sunshiiiine on a cloudy day..._ "

_Ignore it, Laura. Wait until you get home._

" _When it's cold outsiiiiiiide, I've got the month of May..._ "

_There is a_ bed _there. There is_ room _there. The truck is not a good place for this, and the ground is full of dirt and rocks-_

" _We-ell_!"

_No._

" _I... guess... you'd... say..._ "

_No no no no NO_. 

" _What can make me feel this way?_ "

_Oh GOD-_

" _My girl, my girl, my girl, talkin' 'bout my giiiiiirl..._ "

The look and smile he threw her on the last words swept any remaining resistance away into the breeze - as did the memory that their children, and Nat, were at the house and they would undoubtedly have to deal with them before anything else could happen.

"Clint."

He broke off singing at the subtle tension in her voice. "Huh?"

"Pull over."

The smile turned to a concerned frown as he glanced at her, only taking his eyes off the long stretch of empty back-country highway before them for a millisecond. She didn't meet his gaze, staring ramrod straight through the windshield at the recently-mowed fields that had held corn and wheat around them, because if she did she wouldn't be able to stop herself from jumping him. And that was a _bad_ thing in a moving vehicle. "Laura? You okay?"

"Just pull over, Clint."

"Okay..." Still frowning, obviously worried now, he put on the blinker, started hitting the brakes, and steered the truck onto the grassy verge next to the highway reserved for cars that had broken down and police setting up speed traps. When they came to a stop, he killed the engine and turned in his seat to face her, speaking as he moved. "Do we nee-"

His words were cut off by his wife suddenly throwing herself at him from across the cab, having gotten her seat belt off in less than a second and entirely too glad his truck had one of the old-fashioned bench seats in the front. She was so lost with _lust_ for him that it didn't matter what kind of vehicle they were in, but the bench would make it so much easier. Her lips crashed into his as her body pressed to his side, pinning one of his arms between them and taking him utterly by surprise. Clint froze in shock for half a second and then melted into kissing her back as fiercely as she was kissing him, bruising her lips against his teeth and freeing that trapped arm to yank her even closer to him, her body half-draped over his though he was still buckled into his seat. Her own arms wound around his neck and clung desperately, climbing further on to him and letting one leg dangle between his, and she started trying to push herself even closer though there was nowhere for her to go. 

After several seconds of some of the most intense kissing she could fathom, Clint broke away to breathe, yanking his head back so hard he nearly smacked it on the door. "Not that I'm complaining," he heaved, and Laura felt a flash of pride in herself for making him so breathless, ignoring for the moment that she was just as bad, "but what brought this on?"

"You," she answered, pulling one arm from him to reach between them and pop his seat belt, yanking it from where it was pinned between them so there was one less thing in the way. "You have _no_ idea how _hot_ you are, and you've been _so hot_ all morning, and all I could do was _stare_ at you and want to do _this_ -" And she darted in, licking a long stripe up his neck before biting down over the pulse point on the right side of his throat, sudden rather than hard but _more_ than good enough to draw a startled groan from his lips, exactly the reaction she was going for. His hands tightened on her waist, and she could feel herself start to grow wet from where his fingers were not-quite-on-accident finding her skin between her own shirt and jeans and the heat building between them. "And then you were _singing_ and you _smiled_ and it's _completely not fair_ how _attractive_ you are."

"What about you?" His response was accompanied by his own mouth tracing over her face, kissing everywhere he landed, nose, eyes, forehead, even her ear, the lobe of which he trapped between his lips and sucked, making her squeak as he hit one of her own special points. "God you're still just as gorgeous as the day I met you..." One hand traced up her spine under her shirt, moving to the hook of her bra, while the other sank into the back of her jeans to feel her ass with his nimble hand. "You've got those _eyes_ that go on forever and your hair is _intoxication_ and you're wearing _that shirt_ , you _know_ what that shirt does to me."

Laura looked down for a brief moment in surprise, and started to laugh even as she began kissing up his neck again. "That shirt" was an ordinary women's tee in dark purple, a color she looked pretty good in, that he'd picked up for her one night when she'd told him she ruined another outfit in a painting mishap. He'd accidentally gotten the wrong size, one smaller than she liked her clothes to be - but it was still wearable, so she hadn't bothered with exchanging it. "No I don't, what does it do?" 

"Shows off your breasts," he said, head ducking down to kiss and suck on the small section of skin in the V of the shirt, over her collarbones, and she gasped as her head fell back. "God, your boobs are _amazing_ , Laura."

She snorted lightly. "No they aren't, not after two kids."

" _Yes they are_ ," he insisted, pushing her away and winding his hands into the shirt at the same time, pulling it up over her head with no hesitation. "They're perfect, and you're perfect, and you're _gorgeous_ , and _christ_ Laura what you do to me-"

"It's mutual," she said, dragging herself back to him and sealing his lips with hers.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You're going to stop. You're _going_ to stop."

"I couldn't believe it! I mean, it's not the first time we've had sex in the-"

"STOOOOP!"

"Oh god, and she wanted _everything_ , she wasn't quiet about it _at all_ -"

"I will murder you _in your bed_."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You don't want to wait until we get home?" Clint asked, pupils blown with lust, clearly _not_ wanting to stop but feeling he had to make the offer.

Laura wasn't putting up with it, her hands scrambling for his own shirt, yanking at it as he shifted in his seat to allow her to pull it off. "The kids. Nat."

"Right," he said as the shirt slid over his head, immediately lunging for her as she threw it in the foot well to kiss her as fiercely as he could, knocking her back almost a foot and slamming them both into the back of the seat. Her hands moved to his chest, to those glorious pecs and abs, running over all that tanned skin and the occasional scar from a bullet or a knife she'd long since become accustomed to, squeezing and pressing and massaging everywhere she went. One of his hands slid up the back of her neck and into her hair, dragging it out of the messy ponytail she'd bundled it into earlier, her long chocolate strands falling around them both. She retaliated by lacing her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck and pulling, something that always drove him _crazy_ , woke up his body and knocked out his sense of reasoning at the same time. He pulled back with a hiss, not of pain but of pleasure, and she pushed forward again to put her lips all over his neck, kissing and sucking every inch of skin she could as she ran her tongue along the dips and valleys there. He managed to get her bra undone and pulled it down her arms, but she refused to let go of him right away to let him remove it entirely, letting it dangle from her elbows as she kept scratching at the back of his neck with her nails and driving him crazy doing so. He groaned deeply, not bothering to try and keep the noise down since there were no kids around to disturb, leaving one hand in her hair but letting the other come up to massage her breast, pulling and pinching at her nipple and making her _gasp_.

" _Clint_." Her voice was half-gone, breathy and lost, and she could feel an answering growl deep in his chest that only made it more urgent that they get their clothes off _that moment_. "I want it... I want-" and she gasped again as he latched on to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sucking hard to drive her crazy, "-you! E-everything, all of you..." she finished in a whisper, her mouth next to his own ear, breathing hot and heavy.

"I can do that," he murmured against her skin, shifting his hands to her back and starting to pull away, to disentangle them, little by little. "Lie back, we can..."

Laura complied, mind hazed by love, lust, adoration, and pure _need_ for this wonderful man with her, a man that even in the throes of passion was so considerate of her, so gentle, that he would grab their discarded shirts and the jacket he'd tossed aside and ball them up into a makeshift pillow for her head. Clint also pulled away her bra and hooked it over the gearshift to keep it off the floor, taking the moment after he'd arranged her and everything else to his satisfaction to just look at her, stretched out on the seat before him. "God, Laura," he whispered, eyes focusing momentarily, the lust dissipating and only love remaining as he set one hand on her still-clothed leg, squeezing it gently. "You're _perfect_. How'd I get so lucky?"

"You deserve everything you've ever wanted." She knew all too well about the baggage his family had left him, a father that drank and hit, a mother that couldn't break away or prevent her son from becoming a target for her husband, a series of caretakers that weren't really terrible but weren't _caring_ either. Only depending on himself, afraid to open up to others and be knocked down again, searching for a place to belong but losing it every time he found it. The fear that he wouldn't be a good husband, his utter terror that he'd fail as a father. The pain that the days leading up to the Battle of New York had left him with, the horror he'd experienced when it was revealed that the agency he'd devoted his life to was being run by the very people it was founded to oppose. He'd suffered _so much_ in his life, and had come out _so strong_ on the other side, and she was always amazed and awed by how he picked himself up and kept going. He deserved _everything_ good in the world, and she absolutely didn't mind being a part of that. Her husband was the best man she knew, and however long it took to convince him of that, she would never stop, or regret, doing so.

This time there was no hesitation as he moved in to kiss her long, slow, and deep. They were awkwardly arranged, her legs wedged behind him and a little bent as he sat on the very edge of the bench next to her hip, but he shifted to kneeling on the floor and everything straightened out into a much more comfortable arrangement, all the better for kissing. Her arms went around his neck and shoulders again, scratching along his nape and pulling on the hair there once more, and the kiss picked up energy as she worked. Clint shifted again, pushing his chest into hers and rubbing himself along her, making them both moan into the kiss, one hand threading in her hair along her temple and the other skating down her exposed side to her hip. He dug his fingers under the waistband of her jeans for a moment, making her squirm as she was a little bit ticklish there, and then moved across her body slowly to the button. With fingers more nimble than she'd ever seen before she met him, or after for that matter, he had it open and the zipper pulled down in only a moment, his hand "accidentally" brushing against her panties. He grinned in a very pleased manner, breaking their kiss, as he felt just how wet she was for him already.

"Stop gloating," she said, whacking him lightly in the chest. It wouldn't hurt him, but that wasn't the goal. "Get down there and do something about it."

"Yes ma'am." It was their own private joke, that he would answer to her where he wouldn't answer to anyone else, not even Fury or Nat, and he didn't hesitate to take that as an order. Both of his hands went to the waistband of her jeans and started wiggling them down in the only way to do it in the confines of the truck, his head descending to her chest to trace one breast with his tongue, licking in surprisingly delicate starts and stops that he only used when he wanted to work her up slowly, to drive her absolutely crazy. Laura _whined_ , unconcerned with sounding childish, at the indication that he wasn't going to overwhelm her and bang her into oblivion. " _Cliiiint..._ "

"In good time... I've gotta treat you right."

"Treat me right _later_ , treat me hard _now_."

"That'll happen too, don't worry."

" _Clinton Francis Barton-_ "

"Laura Janet Mackay," he interrupted, the grin on his face clearly showing his desire to tease her as much as he could get away with.

"If you _don't_ do something about th-oohhhh!" she gasped mid-word, back arching as Clint's hand found the join between her legs. He'd left her jeans down at her knees, enough off to give him access, but not enough to let her kick and move like she was admittedly prone to doing in her more "gone" moments. His hand traced the sensitive inner skin of her thighs, callouses rough and arousing, stroking upwards in little flicks and making her breath come faster. She loved when he played, that feeling of concentration on her and her pleasure and nothing else that she got from him in the rare moments they had nowadays to indulge in the kind of full, all-encompassing lovemaking that had been a hallmark of the first years of their relationship, before Cooper was born. Clint's concentration and dedication was legendary around the world, and to feel it all brought to bear on her and what she needed... it was as intoxicating as any alcohol. "Clint..." she whispered again, almost a plea, eyes closing.

He didn't tease again, lowering down again to kiss her breast, softly in a spiral pattern, the stubble he hadn't bothered to shave off that morning scratching pleasantly along the tender skin there and making her sigh in happiness. His fingers continued stroking at her inner knees and thighs until her legs relaxed slightly, giving him a better angle and more access, and he slowly moved his hand up to cup her mound. Laura reached down blindly as her eyes shut at the feeling, grasping for his free hand with her right, and he took it, squeezing her fingers just as he put pressure on his palm between her legs. Her left hand came up to thread through his hair at the back of his head, drawing a rumble from his chest, and he gave a soft nip to her breast as his palm began to rub her in small circles. She whimpered again, clenching his hand as the pressure he was bringing to bear on her transferred to her sensitive nerve endings, his tongue flicking over her nipple before pulling back to blow a cool stream of air over the wet skin. 

It was all so much, _so good_ , that the only thing she could think of was wanting _more_. "C-Clint... faster..." 

"Okay, baby... I've got you..."

His fingers started parting her folds as he leaned up just a little to bite at the soft patch of skin under her ear, making her jerk and yelp. She was losing her mind, feeling it fly away from her in the touch on her breast, her legs, her clit as the tip of his finger found it at last. She yelped again at that bare touch, a tease more than anything, legs clapping together instinctively to keep his hand there; Clint, expecting that after sixteen years, gave her a moment to relax her muscles and then dropped her hand to pull her right leg down, opening her to him again. He used his elbow to pin her other knee against the back of the seat, limiting his mobility somewhat, but not enough to make any sort of difference to him - or, more importantly, to her. "You know if you grab me like that, I can't do anything to you." His tone was entirely conversational as he stroked over her opening, lightly running his fingertip around her entrance, then tracing it up to just tickle her nub. Her hips bucked, trying to follow that finger as it pulled away, and she opened her eyes to glare at him. They flew open all the way as he immediately dove back in, giving her no time to threaten him with any of the myriad things she was thinking, driving coherent ideas entirely from her mind as he stroked his fingers over her clit in rapid succession. Already swelled and sensitive, each touch felt like the first one she'd ever had from him, so many years ago, and she moaned as her hips shook under his hands. Her husband knew all her ins and outs, every button she possessed, and apparently he wanted to hit them all.

"Is this good, baby?" he asked, quiet even as he teased.

Laura half-swallowed a sob of pleasure and nodded. "Just... keep going, don't stop..."

"Yes, ma'am."

"A-And don't," she continued before he could move again, drive thoughts out of her brain once more, "don't forget yourself..." When he'd dropped her hand to open her up, she'd started searching through the air, and now her fingers brushed worn denim as they skimmed over his thigh. She immediately followed the fabric, the hard muscle, up, her hand landing squarely on the unmistakable bulge in Clint's jeans and gripping, making him shudder and groan as he half bent over her. 

"Y-You're," he began, pushing the words past the growl that was obviously building in his chest, "you're the important one here."

With him preoccupied by her hand, she had a little more brain to think with, a little more mobility and chance to act upon him in return. "I'm not the only important one," she breathed, pulling him down again with the hand still threaded in his hair, rising up to meet his mouth and kiss him as hard and lovingly as she could, their lips and teeth and tongues clashing as they poured themselves into each other. She rubbed with her hand on his crotch and he brought his fingers back to her center, stroking and dipping into her entrance, and they both moaned into each others' mouth, hips bucking at the stimulation. It wasn't enough for Laura after what seemed like very little time, and she broke off her ministrations to lean up completely, breaking the kiss as both hands went to Clint's jeans. He didn't fight her, still circling her clit but gently, reminding her he was there but not overwhelming her, allowing her to wrestle with his button and zipper and then shove his jeans and boxers down to his knees when she had them undone. His cock sprang free, rising to meet her hand as she grasped it, running her thumb in a spiral around the head and making him shudder again, hooded eyes looking down at her through a haze of lust. She smiled up at him, deliberately coy, and then shoved herself down awkwardly (the truck bench was _not_ long enough to do it properly, even though it was significantly better than two individual seats would have been) to plant a gentle kiss on the side of the shaft at the base, then another, and another, working her way up to the tip, turning to take it into her mouth.

But Clint's hand threaded through her hair and pulled her away from his cock before she could get halfway down, and she whined in a wordless protest. "Baby, you can't," he said, voice choked and obviously fighting with himself internally.

"But I _want_ to," she protested, giving him that look she _knew_ he couldn't resist and a pull and twist with the hand still on his member.

Indeed, he groaned as his hips pumped with her motions, falling over to lay his forehead on her own head, pupils so blown the blue was only a faint ring around them. "I want you to, _god_ I want you to, but if you want me, y-you're gonna have to not-"

Another whine built in her throat, but she didn't protest any more than that; no matter how fit her husband was, how _sexy_ he was, and how much stamina he had on an op or in a fight, they weren't in their twenties anymore and their bodies, his in particular, reflected that sexually. If she accidentally set him off now, that would probably be it for at least another hour, more than long enough to kill the mood in a place the size of the truck cab. "Later, then?"

"Oh _fuck_ yes," he breathed, dipping his head to kiss her wildly again, pushing into her and pushing _her_ so she moved back on the bench, ending up leaning at an angle against the door, her head resting on the ledge below the open window and the makeshift pillow of their clothes bracing her lower back. The new position was a bit of a strain on her spine, but it allowed her to stretch her legs out completely and give him more room to work with, and she likely wouldn't be lying that way for long enough for it to hurt. He yanked her sneakers off and dropped them next to the pedals, following them with her jeans and panties in only a second, leaving her socks since they weren't in the way. As he pushed on to the bench and on top of her, his own jeans and boxers fell down around his ankles, stopped by his old work boots which they both completely ignored. The hand that had been teasing at her center went to her breast, massaging the nipple quickly with his thumb, while his other hand went back into her hair to keep her pressed against him, kissing the breath out of her with her willing compliance. Her left hand went back into the short hair above his neck, holding him to her as tightly as he was holding her to him, but her right snaked under his arm, around his back, and gripped one of the globes of his ass in an unmistakably possessive gesture, using that hold to shove his pelvis into hers and grind them together. Call it luck of genetics or fitness born of frequent physical training, but her husband still had the best ass she'd ever seen and she loved any excuse to literally get her hands on it, squeezing it and massaging whenever she could get away with it. Clint didn't seem to mind.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing him even closer to her, and for several moments both of them panted loudly as he thrust his cock between her legs, rubbing against her nub and her entrance and coating himself in the wetness almost pouring from her now. Her hips moved with him perforce with how closely she was holding them together, the two of them one being writhing with the heat they generated between them, completely unaware of anything happening beyond their little bubble. When he couldn't take it any longer, he pulled away just enough to take his cock in hand and thrust into her completely in one go. Laura screamed at his entrance, not in pain - she was so ready for it there was no way on earth any part of him could hurt her - but in passion and _joy_ , shoving her hips forward so she met him and took him in, feeling him filling her completely. She paused for just a moment, the hard, hot stiffness inside her so perfect, so wonderful, she just wanted to _experience_ it for a second, before nodding, telling him she was ready to continue without words. Clint pulled back - not very far, since she was completely wrapped around him and not letting go any time soon - and slammed in again, drawing another cry from her as she tightened her grip on his ass once more. And he did it again, and again, not being at all gentle, which was exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to take her, to _claim_ her, and to claim him in return as hers, now and forever more, and he knew how to read her moods, knew what she wanted in their lovemaking, and gave it to her whenever he could. And with no children or sister-in-law around, they could be as loud as they wished, go as hard as they wanted to go, sweat trailing in little rivulets down their bodies as they clung to each other and focused on fucking their brains out. He couldn't pull away for half a second before he was driving back in, as hard and as fast as he could, hands moving to grip the window sill and the back of the seat to give him better purchase. She bucked her hips in time with his as hard as she could, arms and legs around him and keeping him there, keeping _them_ there as long as possible, reveling in the level of passion they still had after so long together. They tried to kiss over and over, but they kept falling apart as she cried out at his thrusts, as he kept panting and gasping, so she turned to biting his neck and clawing at his shoulders instead, making him yell as her teeth sank into the join between his shoulder and neck. Faster and faster, the heat building between them, in them, _around_ them, the air thick with the smell of sex and the sounds both of them couldn't stop making. His cock couldn't fully leave her before he was slamming home again, her fingers had worn divets in his ass, her hair was matted and tangled around them with the frantic movements they made. The pressure was rising, her core compressing, as if poised to spring-

-And she screamed, loudly, as it exploded within her, her orgasm ripping through her body and making her shake under Clint, clinging to him even more fiercely as everything around her blacked out in the glorious wave of euphoria he'd brought on. She gave a shuddering, sobbing cry as the pleasure rushed through her for several seconds, tensing up her muscles and wringing them out only to fade away at the end, leaving her a limp but sated rag as Clint's thrusts faltered, his unerring sense of rhythm failing as his own peak came on him. Just before it could get too painful for him to keep going, Laura felt him seize up between her legs, his own muscles standing out against his skin like thick metal cord, and she gave a whimper as she felt the cool flood of his ejaculation douse the fire within her, soothing the dull yet entirely worthwhile ache that was building between her legs. His hips kept moving in tiny erratic spurts as he climaxed, pumping into her involuntarily for several seconds before finally slowing, then stopping. She moaned in the back of her throat as he seemed to lose some of his normal fantastic coordination; when he bent down to kiss her once more, still buried deep within her, he was shaking more than she was, still shivering from the aftershock of his orgasm as she lay in a wonderfully boneless pile beneath him. She found the strength to smile at him in the warmth of her love for him, and he brought his hand down to cup her cheek as their lips met and their eyes closed, careful and gentle in contrast to the frantic rutting of moments before.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"-and it was great, it was the best we've been able to have in _months_ -"

" _Why are you not listening to me?!_ "

"-and that was when the cop showed up."

_That_ brought Natasha to a stand-still, knife gripped in her hand like she was about to stab her partner with it, even though she knew he was her superior with them. If he kept on like that, though, she would still make a damn good try; maybe the just-had-sex euphoria would make it easy for her. "Wait. A cop?"

"Yeah, a cop. Did you think I was telling you this just to gross you out?"

She narrowed her eyes into her best nightmare-induing glare. " _Yes_."

It was really too bad Clint knew her so well, because he wasn't terrified of the expression at all. Clearly she'd have to develop a new one that would work on him. Instead, the ass _grinned_ , a grin that was almost a smirk and clearly showed how much he'd enjoyed her horror - and then he ducked as she threw a piece of bread at him, letting it shoot over his head. "Maybe some. But it had a point! Now you can say you know someone who was threatened with arrest for indecent public exposure on a highway in Iowa."

Nat groaned, head dropping into her hands, rubbing her temples. "I _chose_ this... _Why_ did I choose this..."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Are you two done?"

Laura screamed in surprise and Clint gave a completely undignified yelp of shock at the unexpected voice, trying to jump away from each other like two guilty teenagers. Clint's yelp morphed into pain as he whacked his hand against the dashboard and jerked his hips to pull out of her at a bad angle, and Laura forgot their unexpected visitor at the grimace on his face. "Oh god honey, are you okay?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grimaced, "but who the hell is that?" 

Another scream popped out of her as she heard an unfamiliar throat being cleared, and she scrambled behind her for something to cover herself and her husband with. Her hand found one of the shirts and she yanked it across her breasts, Clint wiggling around for a moment to pull his jeans back up. When he started to sit up properly, she gave yet another squeak and pulled him back into her, his face landing between her breasts, using him as a living shield since she couldn't get properly dressed without completely exposing herself.

There was a shape at the driver's side window, a very tall shape: a man with dark skin, sunglasses against the midday sun, a strong build, and - most importantly - the full uniform of a deputy sheriff and a distinctly unimpressed look on his face. Peeking just a little, Laura felt her face flame in embarrassment as she spotted a police cruiser parked behind the truck in the mirror. Apparently he'd driven up and parked while they were going at it like rabbits, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to what was around them. "You're supposed to _notice_ things like that," she whispered to Clint.

"With you doing what you were doing? Not a chance," he replied before carefully turning over to preserve her dignity (what was left of it) and reaching down to grab her pants, passing them behind his back for her to snatch. "Uhh... sorry, officer, we didn't realize anyone would come by, normally there's no one out here..." And especially not much police traffic.

That unimpressed look didn't leave the deputy's face, and he pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead to give them an even more impressive deadeye. It was some relief that he didn't seem to care that both of them had been almost butt naked, but Laura desperately wished he would turn _away_ so she could change that. "Normally, no. So when I spotted a truck on the side of a highway that's not much traveled, I thought it'd be a good idea to pull over and make sure there wasn't any trouble. Didn't expect to see it rockin' on its wheels, or who was doing the rockin'."

Laura flushed again and ducked behind Clint, who went just a little tense for a moment with his normal fighting instincts, maybe angry at the deputy's tone and maybe annoyed with the implication they were as dumb as two very dumb teenagers. But she grabbed his hand and could feel him curb it quick - annoying or not, the man was just doing his job, and there was no reason to escalate this when they really _had_ been in the wrong. "We're sorry, we didn't mean to."

"You know there's laws about things like this," he continued, just as stone-faced as ever.

"Yes, yes, we know, we're sorry, it's just-"

"Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn't take you in?"

Laura flushed again, but almost immediately felt the blood drain out of her as Clint tensed again in front of her; he could look mortal danger to himself in the eye and not blink, but heaven help anyone who threatened his flock in any way. And while the threat was most likely an empty one, the idea of Laura in jail (not himself - he'd already been through that more than once, and been punished for his idiocy by having to sleep in the barn every time) lit up those protective instincts like a Christmas tree. The sheriff was clearly not willing to take any crap, and if he noticed Clint's unusual behavior in front of a law enforcement official, he might look into it more closely than either of them wanted. The very least he would find if he got it into his head to go poking around would be the M1911 in the glove compartment - where the permit for the weapon also was - and at worst would be the Heckler & Koch MP5 Clint had very carefully concealed under the bench - which was much harder to explain. Letting that worry overwhelm her was easy and Laura gave a scratchy gasp, her eyes watering as she shifted behind her husband to sit up completely, clutching the shirt over her breasts and grabbing for Clint's hand next to her leg while she let herself babble. "Oh god, please don't do that, we're so sorry and we'll never do it again, it's just we haven't been able to really do much in so long, his sister is staying with us and we have kids, we're barely ever alone and it was so warm today and we were working really hard and it's all my fault, I couldn't help it, he just looked so handsome and I told him to pull over-"

Laura Mackay had never been an actress, at least not any more than any other young woman that was reasonably adept at keeping her own secrets. Laura Barton still wasn't an actress, but being the wife of a high-level S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, the sister-in-law of another, and occasional hostess to the not-quite-deceased Director himself had given her a few skills since those more innocent early years, the most important being a lesson from Nat: " _Don't try and hold the high ground, deliberately take the low ground. They'll underestimate you, you get around their guards, and if you don't screw it up you've got everything you wanted._ " All she wanted at the moment was for the deputy to see them as what they were, a couple who had some limitations on their love life thanks to circumstances not entirely in their control, and maybe with not the best restraint when their needs were active. As long as he believed that was _all_ they were, everything would probably be fine.

Clint, smart man that he was, figured out what strategy she was using within her first six words, and he turned a little on the seat to press his cheek to her shoulder in a show of support, bringing their joined hands up to kiss her knuckles but not interfering. The deputy remained stone-faced right up until the mention of kids, and something - a small something, but anything at all was a good sign - cracked through that blankness, a light of sympathy coming into his eyes, though he did a very good job of hiding it. 

She knew then she'd won this.

"-And we're sorry, we're _so_ sorry, and if you let us go we'll just go back to the farm and not leave it for the rest of the day and not do this again ever, we promise."

He didn't respond after her outburst ended, for several seconds, and Laura was finally calm enough to read the "Glenn" stitched on his uniform above his right pocket as he continued to stare them down. Clint had dropped most of his tension down to reasonable levels for a half-naked man being confronted by a trooper with his mostly-naked wife but didn't turn to look at Glenn again as they waited, knowing just as well as Laura did that it might provoke a stupid and utterly pointless dominance battle. Finally, _finally_ , Glenn gave a heavy sigh and shook his head a little, the first casual motion he'd made since walking up. "I should at least ticket you for abusing the emergency stop areas, but you're right - almost no one comes out here." His gaze firmed up again as he looked at them once more, just as stone-faced as he'd been moments ago, before he pushed out of his lean on the truck. "Get dressed, get out of here, and don't let me catch you doin' this again. I get that havin' kids makes things hard sometimes, but make things hard in places other kids won't catch you."

"Was that an _innuendo_?" Clint whispered to her.

She whacked him in the shoulder with her free hand and waved out the window. "Thank you, officer! We'll get ourselves together and get going."

"See that you do, ma'am." There was the crunch of dirt and gravel under heavy boots as she ducked her head back down to press into Clint's, clenching his hand as a car door opened and shut. Both of them waited until they heard the engine growl and turn over, the wheels start to turn, and felt the small breeze and rumble in the air when the cruiser passed by them as it pulled back out onto the highway. They waited another minute for the sound of the engine to disappear into the distance, still pressed into each other until they were sure they were alone. Once he was gone for good, Clint gave a sigh of his own and pulled away, taking his shirt from where it was laid over Laura's chest to put on again while she pulled her underwear and jeans back on.

"Here," Clint said. She looked up to see him holding her bra and slid her arms into the straps, turning around and lifting her hair off her neck and back so he could do up the hooks for her. His fingers went into her hair when he was done and she felt him pulling it back, taming it enough to pull it into a loose ponytail again, so he must have located her hair tie as well. Her shirt went over her head as he fastened his jeans again and she grabbed for her sneakers, not putting them on as the impact of what had just happened finally hit her. They'd... they'd had sex. Not just sex, they'd _fucked_. In the truck. In the open. During the _day_. Where anyone could - and definitely _had_ \- seen them. It wasn't like they hadn't done all those things before, but never all at once, and they'd never actually been _caught_ , and...

She looked over at Clint, saw his lips pressed into a thin line and the corners of his eyes scrunching just a little as his hands gripped the steering wheel - and they both burst into laughter.

It was deep, body-shaking laughter, the kind that made them both have to slump over and just roll with it until it was done with them, him draped over the wheel and her collapsed into the seat. They couldn't move for several seconds as they laughed, and each time they started to calm down, they'd catch each others' eye and get set off again. Both of them laughed until they had no more air left between them, and Laura groped blindly for his hand to hold it tight as a line to him, her sides hurting from all the exertion both now and before.

"Oh god..." she finally breathed, unable to open her eyes yet but finally able to form words, "did that just _happen_?"

"I think it did... Yeah, I really think it did," Clint said, and even with all his superspy training he was almost no better than her.

"Clinton Francis Barton, you are a _menace_."

He barked out a laugh again, grinning over at her. "Hey! _You're_ the one who started this! You're the cause of all of this, not me!"

"If you weren't so damn attractive, I wouldn't have!" she protested.

His grin only widened. "I like being attractive to you. We get to have adventures together then."

Laura felt her face flush once more, and she tried to glare at him, though she knew it was completely ineffectual. "You are _not_ thinking of that baseball dugout again!"

" _Now_ I am." His smirk was so wide it could've cut glass. "Wasn't before." But he leaned over to kiss her, pressing his lips to hers, running his tongue around them and tightening his grip on her hand before pulling back just far enough for her to focus on his eyes. "And I think I may be up for another 'adventure' later, if this hasn't turned you off the idea."

Her glare became even more ineffectual as she felt a shiver run up her spine at her husband's words; she'd been right, he really was too damn attractive, everything he did and almost everything he said making her want him more. She gave up being threatening, since it wasn't working for crap anyway, and gave him a slow-burn look that made her pleased to see a shiver go down his own spine. "No... no, I don't think it has."

"Great." He dropped her hand to place his on the back of her neck, pulling her to him again for another kiss, deep and overwhelming, and she moaned a little into it as the faint scent of her own mostly-dried arousal drifted to her from his fingers. Her hand grabbed his shirt, balled into it and held her close to him, until he finally yanked his head away through sheer force of will, already breathing a little harder again. "We should get to the farm."

"Yeah... I'd hate to break our promise to Officer Glenn."

" _Your_ promise." That smirk was back, but she didn't even try to stop it. "That was some good acting there."

"All I did was tell him the truth. But I'll have to thank Nat for the lessons."

Clint glanced down at the analog clock on the dash and cranked the engine, shifting the truck into drive as Laura fastened her seat belt, him just a step behind her. "We really should get home to tell her we weren't in a crash or something, we've been gone for hours."

"But we got everything done we wanted to." Laura couldn't help but smile then, and reach across the bench to put her hand on his thigh, rather higher up than was socially acceptable. She received a sharp intake of breath as a reward. "And something we didn't plan on."

"You are a horrible woman, Laura Janet Mackay." His voice was slightly choked and he kept his eyes front and center, much as she had before he'd halted the truck, accelerating on the shoulder of the highway and slipping on to it with a small bump. "Shit, I got so lucky when I met you." 

Her hand moved another inch up and she squeezed lightly, prompting another gasp from him. "We both did."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"All right, Barton, since you seem to have _forgotten_ the talk we had _years_ ago, I'm going to give you _one_ reminder that _I don't want to hear about your sex life._ I know you have sex, I'm _glad_ you have sex, but it's _gross_ to think about you having sex, so _don't tell me any more about your sex._ "

Clint shrugged, stepping back to pick up the bread she'd thrown and dropping it in the trash bin before grabbing for the half-full coffee pot that was left over from breakfast that morning (the only reason for it not being totally empty being Laura dragging him out before he could drain it) and taking a gulp straight from it without the use of a mug. "And here I thought I was giving you ammunition to use against me."

Nat's eyes narrowed again. " _Bullshit_. Everybody ' _knows_ '," she said, making exaggerated air quotes with her fingers, "you don't have a girl, and you have little to no reason to be in Iowa except for nostalgia, so I _can't_ use this against you and you _know_ it."

"...Yeah," he agreed, mouth widening into a grin, and he ducked again as she threw the top of the mustard jar at him this time. "You know, we're gonna have to work on your aim, you shouldn't have missed twice in a row like that-"

" _So help me Clint Barton I will make you pay._ "

" _You_ taught our daughter to catch frogs and put them in our bed! Payback is payback!"

"You need _more_ than frogs in your bed if it'll stop you screwing around and telling me about it!"

"We've got a lot of other places than our bed we can go if we want to screw around!"

"Clint, stop it, I thought you knew better than to kiss and tell." Laura came through the door as she spoke, pulling off her sneakers and brushing her hair behind her ears. She'd probably taken it down to hide the bruises that were starting to purple along her neck from the children and had a slightly mussed look about her, but at least she wasn't grinning like a moron and didn't seem inclined to spill any more about their little romp in the truck. Natasha always knew she was the sensible one in the family. She was very happy for them, she really was, they fit together so well, they were so clearly happy together - but it was _beyond_ awkward to think about the man who was basically her brother having sex, even with his wife. Knowing it happened and knowing what _specifically_ happened were two very different things in this case, and at least one of them seemed to know that. "Nat, where are the kids?"

"When you guys didn't show up in time for lunch, I sent them out to the creek so I could see what there was to dig up for food. You're out of just about everything, you know." She deliberately ignored Clint pulling faces at her behind his coffee pot as he continued to sip the cold brew.

Laura sighed and pushed her hair out of her face again, shaking her head. "I know, I kept meaning to go to the store, but other stuff kept coming up - eat whatever you can find, we'll go this afternoon. Terrible idea to food shop on an empty stomach."

"Agreed. What do you guys want?"

"Right now I want a shower. I'm feeling sticky with... everything." And, to Natasha's complete amazement and horror, Laura Barton threw all that good sense Nat _thought_ she had out the window as she walked through the kitchen and stopped next to her husband, looking up at him with a small, sly smile as she slid her hand inside the back of his already-creased jeans. "You interrupted me before, remember?"

Natasha's jaw dropped as Clint's eyes started both glazing over and laser focusing on his wife, a sheen of ruddy color rushing to his face that only enhanced the outdoorsy tan he hadn't yet shed from the summer. He actually _put down_ his coffee to grin widely at Laura, clearly not missing the blatant insinuation as he returned the... favor... with a hand in her pants. "Yeah, I did. I can fix that."

Cursing in Russian, Greek, Italian, and something she didn't bother to identify, Nat threw the knife she'd been using into the sink to wash later, turning to stalk out the kitchen door and through the sunroom. "No, no, there's _no way_ I'm staying here to listen to you two pawing at each other like cats in heat, or letting your kids wander back in to hear that! _Cooper! Lila!_ " she yelled as she kicked the screen door open, half-running through it. " _Get over here, we're going into town!_ And you two had _better_ be finished when we come back!"

"You want the truck keys? They're right here in my front pocket-"

" _NO!_ "

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was late January, and Natasha was trapped in a small bar in Germany, playing undercover again on Cap's orders to try and track down another HYDRA faction and maybe get a lead on Loki's scepter. So far absolutely nothing interesting had happened that night other than her target drinking too much and falling head first into the sour cream, but it was still the best tip they had. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she glanced at the mirror she was perched in front of, using it to gauge the status of the man she was following; he was completely passed out at the table he shared with his apparently non-HYDRA friends. They'd either take him home themselves or put him in a cab once they were ready to go, and that clearly wasn't going to be for awhile. Safe enough to take the call.

Her phone for this mission didn't have any numbers saved to it for security's sake, and she didn't recognize the German number on the screen, but the list of people who even had this number was in single digits and the technical maze that Stark had built to encrypt all calls to and from the phone would make them look completely ordinary to outside eyes. Swiping to accept the call, Nat took one last glance at her target before putting the phone to her ear and responding - in German, so she wasn't marked as a non-local to anyone listening to her. " _Da_?"

A familiar voice answered her in the same language; she couldn't help but smile at hearing it, even though they'd talked just the day before. " _Hey, stranger, glad I caught you._ "

" _Nothing interesting's going on right now, boring night all around. I thought a drink would help, but it's not doing much._ " It was their own private code to clue each other in to the generalities of a mission, a hint to a location, and she fell back into it automatically.

" _You know those days, there's never anything interesting until there's a bar fight._ " Hint caught, accepted, answered. But the slightly staticky sound of the call told her that he wasn't close enough to be there in time if something went wrong; the sound came with heavily encrypted calls, but was made worse the farther away the other party was, and therefore how many relays the call had to be juggled through.

" _So do I finally get to hear why you couldn't show up for this party? Boss said you were busy and you'd get back to us when you could._ "

" _That's what I was calling about. We've got some news for you._ "

_We_. Clint trusted Tony's encryption enough to mention a "we" over it, and given Clint's absence from this mission, the lack of panic in his voice, and even the small hint of excitement she heard there - well, this was going to be big, and she sat forward a little more on her bar stool. " _What is it?_ "

" _Remember how you threatened us that if we ever had another rugrat we better name it after you? You got your wish._ " The smile in his voice was obvious, and she gasped quietly herself, an answering smile spreading over own face.

" _That's great news! I'm so happy for both of you._ " And she really was; Natasha still wasn't sure she wanted kids of her own one day (even if she couldn't have them biologically, she knew well enough how many children needed homes) but with Clint and Laura around she always had kids available when she needed them. They were great parents, Clint's personal worries not withstanding, and they included her in their lives as if she really was part of the family, gave her a place to call _home_ that had love and acceptance for everything she was and had been. They were raising two wonderful children, and a third wouldn't throw them. " _How far along is she?_ "

" _About four months. The doctor put it down to late September, which means-_ "

Nat swore violently and _loudly_ in German as the pieces instantly flew together in her mind, making a couple of her target's friends look up at her in surprise; all they saw was a woman of average height and build in a modest business suit and tired brown hair cursing at her phone. Odd, but nothing for them to be concerned about. " _Don't say it. You are not going to say it._ "

" _-probably in the truck,_ " Clint continued, deliberately ignoring her anger in order to torment her over that particular incident again. " _It was_ so _intense, and some people say the more intense it is the more likely it is you'll end up pregnant-_ "

" _Why do you keep ignoring me about this?!_ "

" _But it could've been in the shower, you know after you took the kids to get food, she was all over me and we got to do all sorts of stuff we couldn't do in the truck-_ "

" _Oh my god I am going to kill you. I'm going to hang up this phone, go find you, and kill you. Your wife will only have you to blame for your sudden yet inevitable demise._ "

" _-or she grabbed me as I was changing the sheets on your bed, you know how_ comfortable _your bed is?_ "

" _I'm hanging up._ "

" _And she hasn't been able to stop cornering me since her hormones kicked in, I swear it's-_ " _Bwoop_. Clint's voice was suddenly silenced as she ended the call and stuffed the phone back into her pocket, letting her head land with a jolt on her arm braced on the bar in front of her. At least that seemed to be enough trolling for the day, as Clint didn't buzz the phone again, which he would've have done if he thought she deserved it.

The tired-looking man wiping glasses behind the bar hadn't been able to keep from overhearing most of the conversation, and meandered over to stand in front of her with a doubting but concerned look on his face. " _Are you all right, miss?_ "

" _Fine._ " Natasha raised her head to meet his eyes, letting her annoyance shine through a little. " _Give me the strongest drink you have. I need to forget how much I love my brother so I can get revenge on him for being a little shit._ "

Her target was a bust for the night. There was absolutely no reason Nat couldn't let herself plot several elaborate revenges, all to prepare for when she next saw Clint in person and could take her retribution.

He'd more than earned it, after all.


End file.
